No Victory in Hesitation
by EudaimonArisornae
Summary: Zoro has a lot of things he wants to say to Sanji, but he just needs one more day. (Zosan, character death warning.)


Everyone on the Thousand Sunny took turns speaking, and the rest of them listened in silence, and it just didn't feel right. Zoro tried to listen, too, but even without the typical background noise, he couldn't hear a damn thing. His ears wouldn't stop ringing.

He kept shifting his weight on his feet, curling his toes in his boots, as his eyes wandered aimlessly—to anywhere but on the rest of them.

Anywhere but on _him. _

The weather was shit. They'd spent one miserable day in the balmy, stagnant air of Raftel, and now apparently they were entering some kind of freezing climate, _again_, even though the humidity hadn't let up. The stickiness of it made his exposed skin feel frozen, and he couldn't feel his fingertips or his ears.

It seemed like he'd already been standing on the deck for hours, but he had no gauge, really. He didn't want to be there.

Pockets of anger bubbled up, here and there—for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it felt _wrong_, standing outside, overlooking the sea. They should've been in the kitchen or something, maybe. Or maybe that was fucking sick.

When Zoro was told it was his turn to speak, he couldn't even spit out a single word, much less the stream of insults that came to mind. He choked when he tried. Fuck this, he needed to get out of there. Ducking his head down, he turned and walked away.

The Sunny was big, but it was still just a ship, and no matter how far he wandered, it wouldn't be far enough. He eventually wound up in the galley. Like always.

What a terrible fucking habit.

Chopper had told him he shouldn't even be walking around too much. That he should rest, and keep his arm in a sling.

It was just a cut, though. Well, sort of. It was a chunk that'd been gouged out around where his neck met his shoulders—fine, a wide cut. It kind of hurt like hell, but he was good at ignoring pain. There was some odd comfort in it, maybe.

He really wanted to pick a fight, because that'd probably make him feel better—and his chest seized up at the thought. Fuck, his damn brain better learn to stop thinking things like that, because it wasn't an option anymore.

An actual battle would work, though. Even with all the fighting yesterday, his fingers twitched at the thought of being able to go all-out on someone, _anyone, _at the moment. It was messed up for him to wish they'd get attacked right now. Besides, after yesterday, Zoro wasn't even sure if people would try to fuck with them anymore. They'd won against the whole damn world, after all.

But someone willing to take on people like them—that was just the kind of opponent Zoro would've liked. Someone who thought they were a match for the strongest crew in the world.

The strongest. What a joke. Zoro made a sound that was probably a laugh—he couldn't really tell.

But, yeah, people would come after them based on that alone, no doubt. Because it was the age of pirates, and now Luffy had a title they all wanted.

Dammit. They had finally made it to Raftel—the goal they'd been working toward together for years.

They should've all been having a goddamn party.

And right now, Zoro should've been—fuck, just everything should've been different.

Zoro slammed his fist into the wall of the dining hall. The sharpness of splintered wood jammed into his knuckles and the familiar sting of a reopening wound burned along his neck. It was the best he'd felt all day.

He stood there for a moment, staring down at his feet, barely noticing the bloodstains slowly pooling on one side of his shirt.

The _bang _of someone throwing open the galley door wasn't even enough to make him look up. But then Luffy grabbed his shoulder and twisted him around, glaring at him from just inches away, and Zoro was forced to meet his gaze.

Luffy was wearing an expression he'd never seen before.

"_Zoro_." Luffy practically shouted his name. The piercing volume and the way Luffy pronounced it made him flinch.

Zoro said nothing.

"Get outside."

He jerked his shoulder away from Luffy's grasp, gritting his teeth and turning away.

Luffy shoved his way back in front of his face. "Zoro, you have to come _right now_."

"It doesn't matter if I go or not."

Rough hands grabbed the front of his shirt, and if Luffy noticed the blood, he wasn't concerned by it.

"Don't you get it, Zoro? This is the last chance you'll ever get to say goodbye to him."

Every part of his body screamed in protest as Zoro found himself reluctantly following Luffy. Because Luffy always managed to persuade him. But fuck, he didn't want to see this.

They should've been celebrating today—not having a fucking funeral.

* * *

><p>"—And tomorrow, let's go to Raftel and kick everyone's ass!"<p>

Luffy's enthusiasm was always contagious, and the room felt charged as the Strawhat crew cheered and whistled at his declaration. Zoro raised his glass with them, but even as he joined the fray, he couldn't remember the last time his stomach had felt so knotted.

The tavern connected to their inn was almost totally deserted, which made them seem all the louder. There were some nice perks to that, though—like how the bartender was able to keep their drinks from ever really getting empty. Zoro stayed put on his stool at the end of the bar and probably had the most refills of them all.

He preferred to sit back like this, sometimes, and just watch his rowdy crewmates interact. It calmed him, for some weird reason. As much as he could calm down given the situation, anyway.

They were all trying to ignore the tension in the room. But Luffy had a good look in his eyes, and it made Zoro swell with anticipation. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a fight. The fight they'd been working toward for years now.

His gaze drifted over to Sanji. He'd been in constant motion since they'd gotten there, buzzing back and forth like an idiot, swooning and flirting and accommodating everyone. Like he wasn't supposed to be relaxing tonight, too.

Dumbass.

Zoro shifted in his stool, actually forcibly turning his body away, because he needed to stop paying attention to him.

No matter how hard he tried, though, he kept fixating on Sanji.

One more night. That was all he needed to wait. Zoro had made up his mind awhile ago and now that day was finally coming.

He gulped down his ale until he found the bottom of the glass.

After they got through whatever they'd be facing on Raftel, he was going to tell Sanji everything. Even if he didn't really know the right thing to say. He'd work it out, somehow, when he reached that moment, even if the thought of it made him feel like he'd swallowed a rock.

He was frustrated that he couldn't ignore Sanji for even one damn night, though. But in a way, it made sense. If ignoring that idiot love-cook had actually worked to begin with, then he never would've been in this situation to begin with.

He'd never been able to ignore Sanji, no matter how hard he tried.

It was actually fucking ridiculous, though. The harder Zoro tried to pay attention to something else, the quicker he found himself looking at Sanji again.

That idiot was blazing through cigarettes twice as fast as usual and Zoro had never seen him fidget so much. Yet he was still laughing, wearing an aloof fucking smile like he was totally fine.

Zoro would've broken the handle off of his tankard if he'd squeezed it any harder.

He knew all he had to do was look in the bartender's direction and he'd quickly get his refill. But the ale was barely tasting good to him, and the fire pit at the other end of the room was making everything so damn hot, and that idiot love-cook was getting louder and louder, and he couldn't fucking do it anymore.

Slamming his empty glass down, he slipped outside through a back door of the tavern without saying a word to anyone.

The snow had started as soon as they'd pulled into the dock, and now the ground outside was totally covered. Zoro didn't really care one way or the other what the weather was like, though.

The distant echo of music drifted across the empty streets. Some kind of celebration or festival. Zoro thought he'd heard the innkeeper tell them earlier. Everything around the town would be dead tonight because of it. Including the tavern and inn.

The melody was light and cheerful and as Zoro rubbed his freezing hands together, he realized his palms were sweaty.

He was on the verge of something unpleasant—something about himself he didn't really want to think about, didn't want to face. All the pent-up shit inside of him, threatening to spill out as he thought about the fight tomorrow.

And the resolution he'd made to himself.

He smelled cigarette smoke as soon as the back door creaked opened and he swallowed hard, not bothering to turn around.

It'd make the night a hell of a lot easier if Sanji would just stay away from him.

"It's fucking _freezing_," Sanji hissed, stepping up beside him. "What the hell are you doing out here, shitty marimo?"

"Nothing."

"Then let's get inside."

"Go inside if you want to, shit-cook, I didn't ask you to come out here."

Zoro couldn't even remember when this had started becoming normal. They used to never spend any more time together than they had to.

"You've been leering at me all damn night," Sanji mentioned, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Zoro sucked in a breath and the cold air felt almost painful in his lungs.

"Like hell I have."

"You're an idiot if you even try to deny it," Sanji shrugged, flicking his cigarette butt into a snowbank as he took a step toward Zoro. "But it's fine."

It's fine? What the hell was that even supposed to mean?

But then the look on Sanji's face changed, and all the earlier traces of that stupid, untroubled smile disappeared. The honest look on Sanji's face—Zoro suddenly felt like he'd never been able to see it enough before.

When Sanji didn't speak for a moment, Zoro cleared his throat.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"Tonight, we should—" Sanji started, averting his gaze, taking another half-step toward him.

Zoro's heart pounded a little harder as Sanji's fingertips brushed the side of his hand. He should've pulled away and he didn't.

"Well, it's just. We've been through a lot of shit together, but we really might not make it through tomorrow."

Sanji's voice was low and soft, and just a little uneven.

"Tch, of course we will." It wasn't even a question to Zoro—they'd all worked on getting stronger together. Losing was impossible for them.

Zoro's heart pounded as Sanji threaded their fingers together. Damn.

"You're so fucking confident for a guy who's nearly died at least ten times since I've known him."

Snowflakes were starting to pile up on top of Sanji's hair and Zoro unconsciously reached over to brush them away.

Shit. He hadn't meant to do that.

Hadn't mean to touch him to begin with.

And he didn't mean to let Sanji lace his fingers together behind the back of his neck or pull him closer. He didn't mean to lean in, like he was okay with all of this—never meant for any of it, but damn, Sanji's lips felt good against his own.

Zoro had never meant to fall for a bastard like this to begin with, but he just fucking couldn't help himself.

And he was lost for a moment—drawn into it, to the taste of the cigarettes, to the warmth of Sanji's mouth. It made him feel like he was drowning in nicotine and even if he died, he wasn't going to stop.

Zoro slipped his arms underneath Sanji's, wrapped around his torso and just fucking held onto him so hard, it was pathetic. He kissed him, like he'd wanted to so many times before, like he wasn't going to do just yet. It was so fucking cold, but he could barely even feel it anymore as heat surged inside of him, building somewhere at the back of his stomach.

Then he pulled away, panting a little.

"Listen, Sanji—"

Dammit, Zoro had told himself he was going to come clean after tomorrow, but the words almost tumbled out of his mouth right there, and he would've said everything, except Sanji's mouth was unexpectedly on the side of his neck and it was enough to make him forget what he wanted to say—and shit, had he just called Sanji by his _name?_

Sanji's teeth traced along the side of his neck and Zoro dug his nails into Sanji's back, pulling him close, and Sanji's mouth eventually found the lobe of his ear.

"We've all got our own rooms tonight, you know," he said softly.

Zoro shivered. It had nothing to do with the cold.

He didn't know what to fucking say.

"You're so damn sure we'll all be okay, but I'm not," Sanji went on, his fingers tracing the nape of Zoro's neck. "And if it's my last night, I sure as hell don't want to spend it alone."

Zoro forced himself to take a deep breath and he actually struggled with it a little—his chest didn't feel right.

He should've pulled away—and this time, he did.

Quickly. Violent. Shoved him away. Because it was all he could do.

"Tomorrow, I—let me talk to you tomorrow." Zoro's voice was quiet, barely louder than a whisper, because it was hard to say even that much. Just one more day, and then he'd be able to say all the shit he didn't even know how to say. He'd force it out one way or another.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

Sanji glared at him and Zoro had no idea what the fuck to do.

"I need to be alone tonight."

No, that wasn't true. He just fucking _couldn't_ yet. He wasn't ready. He needed more time, just one more night. After Raftel, he could do it.

Sanji snatched a cigarette out of the front pocket of his jacket and stuck it between his lips.

"Yeah, okay, go fucking meditate on a snowbank or whatever you need to do," he muttered.

Bringing the lighter toward his face, Sanji cupped a hand around it and agitatedly flicked the wheel a couple of times, until he finally managed to get the cigarette lit. "I don't give a shit what you do, but I'm going to fucking enjoy myself tonight, because for all I know, this might be it."

Zoro gnashed his teeth together. Brave words for someone who couldn't even stop his hands from trembling.

"Do what you want, dartboard-brow."

"I will, shitty marimo," Sanji replied, already opening the door and heading back inside. He slammed it closed before Zoro could say anything else.

Not like there was anything left to say.

Zoro just stood outside, he wasn't even sure for how long, and for a second he thought his fucking hands were trembling, too, but no—it must've been the cold.

He felt like he was sinking—like maybe he'd done something wrong. Could've been his nerves.

Or maybe that idiot's words were eating at him, just a bit.

Maybe he shouldn't have turned him away like that, because Sanji might've been right. They didn't know what—or even _who—_they'd be facing tomorrow. And what if they didn't—

—Nah, he couldn't even picture it. It felt like it didn't even make sense to think about. They were all strong now, and they'd pull through, _had to _pull through.

Zoro spent the next couple of hours alone, but the more he wondered just what was going through Sanji's head, the more anxious he became. He paced his room, paced the halls, and finally he found himself standing outside of Sanji's door.

He wasn't ready. But he did want to see him, and repeat what he'd said earlier. Because as he'd been replaying their stupid fight over and over in his head, he wasn't even sure if Sanji had heard the comment about talking tomorrow. Or hadn't really understood what he meant.

Shit, his chest kind of hurt.

The hallway was dead silent as Zoro stood outside the door to his room, fist raised. Just knock on the fucking door, dumbass. He hated how much he hesitated when it came to Sanji.

But before he could find the courage to do it, he heard Sanji's voice, and it made his heart pound.

He'd never heard Sanji making sounds like this, but the voice undoubtedly belonged to him. He wasn't speaking, wasn't yelling—he was fucking _moaning. _

Gasping, out of breath, sounding exhausted and a little thrilled all at the same time.

Zoro was having troubling breathing and he cupped a hand over his mouth, like that'd help anything at all. But he didn't know what to do, so he just stood there, frozen in place. So this is what Sanji sounded like—

And then he heard the other voice. It was barely audible, so much quieter than Sanji, and so much _deeper. _

He was with someone else.

Zoro balled his hands into fists so tight, his short fingernails nearly pierced the skin of his palms and he realized he had to get the fuck out of there.

Sanji was fucking somebody—a man, no less. It made him feel nauseous even though Zoro knew he had no right to feel surprised or disappointed. No right to feel anything at all. Sanji was free to do whatever he wanted and it made Zoro want to fucking lash out at everything around him.

He'd have to wait until tomorrow, but he'd get his chance to lash out at as many people as he wanted. They were going to Raftel and they were going to win. And he'd stop caring about whatever Sanji said or did, because it didn't matter. It had nothing to do with him.

Zoro had his own room but it took him goddamn forever to find it, and even when he finally laid down in the oversized bed, it was damn near impossible for him to sleep. As soon as the sun was up, so was he, already flooded with adrenaline even though it'd probably be several hours before they reached Raftel.

After pacing the room a couple dozen times, he decided to find his way back down to the tavern. He couldn't stand being there by himself any longer.

No one was there—not a surprise, it was too damn early—so Zoro sat down at a random table and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms in front of him.

When he finally heard footsteps approaching, he felt the hair raise on the back of his neck. He knew who that walk belonged to.

He tried to get out of there, but instead, he nearly slammed right into him.

Fuck.

Even in the poor entryway lighting, he could see that Sanji had dark circles underneath his eyes. He looked like he'd slept even less than Zoro had.

Zoro's gaze trailed lower and fell onto a dark bruise just barely peeking above the collar of Sanji's shirt.

He bit the inside of his cheek and for a second, he couldn't look away.

Because Sanji's eyes were so tired and so goddamn blue. And when he looked at Zoro, he smiled at him, this huge, bright grin that he hadn't even known Sanji was capable of making. It was so hard to breathe—so hard to just stand there and even _look _at him right now.

Zoro was so angry, he felt empty inside. All he could do was turn and walk away.

When they all headed back to the Sunny, Zoro kept his distance from Sanji.

The sky was gloomy and overcast, and it was snowing yet again. Normally the cold didn't bother him all that much, but right now, he felt cold inside and out.

Yesterday he'd been struggling so hard not to watch Sanji, but today, he'd managed to avoid looking at his face even one more time after he saw that cheesy fucking smile directed at him. He managed to keep it up all the way to Raftel—and they got separated almost immediately after they arrived.

* * *

><p>The next time he saw Sanji's face, Zoro didn't need to worry about Sanji's smile, or any expressions he might've made, for that matter. Because Sanji would never be making another expression again.<p>

It was so fucking cold, standing on the deck of the Sunny, and Zoro fucking wished so hard that Luffy had left him alone. He didn't want to be here for this.

But now, Zoro had to really _look _at Sanji.

Someone had actually picked out clothes for him and dressed him in it—a black suit that Sanji wore a lot. That he used to wear a lot. His skin looked even more pale and gray against the pink of his collared shirt.

Zoro had given him shit for wearing that shirt before.

But it actually—fuck, it looked good on him, and Zoro's knees might've been shaking.

They asked him again if he had anything to say. Any final words. And he had a fucking thousand of them, but there was no goddamn way he'd say them. Not now.

There were so many things he was going to say to Sanji after they'd left Raftel. But if Sanji couldn't hear them, there was no fucking point in ever saying them at all.

As they lowered Sanji's body to the sea, Zoro was at his limit. His eyes were too blurry to see anything anyway, so he turned and left, and the damp winter wind made his wet cheeks instantly go numb, but Zoro barely noticed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was written for kumiko-sama-chan's 2014 ZoSan Christmas Exchange on tumblr. **

**If you liked this, you should probably go read okama-kenpo's submission for the exchange, The Past Has Its Lessons. You can get to it by going to the "zosan christmas exchange" tag on tumblr and either scrolling to day 8 or clicking the link on kumiko-sama-chan's master post with all of the stories.  
><strong>

**Thanks so much for reading!**


End file.
